


Requiem To Our Paradise

by AvadireNevermore



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, Explicit Language, Gore, Homosexuality, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 04:37:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15573942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvadireNevermore/pseuds/AvadireNevermore
Summary: Sometimes true love isn’t enough to keep a person with ambition from walking away.





	1. To Only Call You 'Friend'

**Author's Note:**

> Warning(s): Homosexuality, Graphic Sex, Explicit Language, Gore, Angst
> 
> Disclaimer: All rights reserved to the true owners of these characters.
> 
> This work is dedicated to my twin sister.
> 
> · // means character thoughts

The rain that beat ferociously against the window panes sounded almost like the thunder that echoed around the small house. The walls would have been shaking if not for the stabilizing spell that had been cast on them shortly before the storm’s approach.

Oliver sat tucked within the wooden bay window of the breakfast nook, gazing longingly out at the spattered & rippling rain that streamed down the glass. It was hard to see anything but the light reflected against the water through the pane. It was not only far too dark to see past it, but it was also a pouring mess.

However, Oliver hadn’t expected to see anything anyway. He wasn’t truly staring out the window for the purpose of admiring anything tangible past its transparent panels. He pulled a khaki-clad knee up to his chest and hugged it loosely with both arms, resting his temple softly against it as he stared unseeingly ahead. It seemed his mind was presently amiss, lost in past events that plagued both his thoughts and his heart.

For all that he was and for all the strength and determination he had within him, he could not seem to escape the persistent ghosts of a past that haunted him. He had tried but it appeared an impossible feat and he was losing the battle against them to regain control of his emotions. He could no longer push them back by mere will alone.

He especially could not fight off one particular ghost with russet auburn hair and stormy blue eyes. His arms tightened firmly around his knees and he felt his bottom lip quiver at the memory. A name settled on his lips that he had been battling for months not to utter, but now he felt it burning to the surface of his soul. He shut his eyes tightly against the tears that welled up in them. He was on the receiving end of a long, drawn-out rejection… He took in a harsh breath and muttered it faintly, painfully, and most of all with inconsolable regret.

“…Percy.”

\--FLASHBACK: October 1992--

The cool Autumn wind swiftly swept through the trees and they shuddered, bit by bit shedding off their leaves. It scattered them along the expanse of the cold stone that made up the exterior corridor lining the courtyard and danced them across Oliver's path. They made a soft scrapping sound that was in part muffled by his footfalls on the hard surface. Oliver turned his head outward and stopped to gaze at the fiery hue melting into the fading blue of a late-noon sky. The clouds were tinged with orange while they were beginning to disperse as day transformed into night.

Oliver felt a smile caress his lips at the sight and a small sadness at having already held team practice earlier instead of scheduling it for now. It would have been a gorgeous sight to behold upon a broomstick while soaring around the Quidditch field. Or, better yet, how about lying on the cool green grass in the arms of--

“Dinner won’t wait for you, Wood. Come along now.”

The Quidditch captain felt his heart leap at the firm voice speaking behind him and he turned to meet the owner of it. He knew who it was without question and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand in anxiety. He quickly attempted to squash the feeling as his eyes met the indulgent azure ones of the Gryffindor prefect. “I was just admiring the sky, Perce,” replied Oliver with a half-grin, “Gorgeous sight, don’t you think?” He gestured towards it with a lax hand.

Percy stared at his friend for a moment with a seemingly blank look before glancing quickly out at the sky. He then gave a soft snort and a hasty downward tug on his sweater. He began to smooth his robes as he said, “Honestly, if you’ve seen one sunset, then you’ve seen a hundred just like it. Quit your dawdling; let’s be going.”

Oliver rolled his eyes at Percy and observed the prefect badge on Percy’s robe. He reached out, flicked it, and said, “You know that pin of yours doesn’t mean you have the right to boss me around.” He crossed his arms over his lean chest and shifted his weight onto one foot, raising a brow at the redhead.

Percy huffed a breath at the look. “What do you mean? Of course it does. It means exactly that. Now stop looking at me. You can be such a child.”

“Oh? Oh really?”

“Yes,” Percy said with absolute certainty. “And for the millionth time, it’s PERCY.”

“Why am I the only romantic one in this here relationship, Perce?” Oliver stuck out his bottom lip in a boyish pout. He knew the name was only meant to be used as a family endearment, but it suited Percy.

Percy’s cheeks flushed and he turned from Oliver. The boy often joked about such things and it always had the same effect on Percy. He worked his jaw before grabbing his friend’s arm in annoyance and began dragging him along in the direction of the Great Hall. “Don’t make such jokes in public!” He hissed harshly, “For Merlin’s sake, someone’s liable to overhear and take you seriously!”

“Who’s joking???”

Percy released Oliver’s arm and threw his own two up in defeat, continuing to walk in a commanding, stiff manner. “Oh forget it! You’re positively hopeless. You never listen.” As they stepped out of the corridor and started up a flight of great stone stairs, Percy turned his head towards the brown haired lad and said quite seriously, “I came looking for you, you know. But, I swear, you never give up.” He shook his head as if trying to shake away a thought. “Some things just aren’t funny, Wood.” Percy scoffed absently. “Damn all, you can starve.” He increased his pace up the stairs after a nod of affirmation was silently added to the comment.

Oliver’s eyes softened on the boy bounding upward a few inches ahead of him and he reached out and grasped Percy’s wrist tightly before he escaped too far out of range. “We’re alone, Percy,” he stated in a voice barely above a kind whisper and not quite his own. It was an involuntary tone that only came from his throat when he was expressing some deep-rooted emotion.

Percy slowed to a stop but didn’t look at Oliver, nor did he pull his wrist out of the grip. Oliver could feel muscles tightening under his fingertips and he felt an urge to take the young man into his arms. He had felt many such urges over the past year when he had finally begun to understand what his unusual inklings for the strong, geeky redhead had been. It was an emotion he could have only come to understand with age and even now as he came close to sixteen years old he knew he still had much to learn. He resisted at first to assume it was ‘love’; he resisted to assume it was ‘lust’ or ‘infatuation’. He denied them all and only accepted it as an attraction of which he could not explain and he didn’t defy the fact that it was homosexual in nature. He knew that society-- and even his own family-- may frown upon it, but Oliver had always been fiercely true to his instincts and emotions. He held back in public, but this alone did not stop him from occasionally allowing his feelings to spring forth in a private setting. 

He knew Percy was feeling them as well despite his resolve not to express them. 

The brunette waited for his friend to speak but he already knew the words that would come. Never had Percy acknowledged Oliver’s schoolboy advances as more than mere jests so they had never gotten past hints and little brushes.

Percy always held back with him.

“Don’t do that, Oliver,” Percy said in a weak mutter. He hardly turned his body towards Oliver and didn’t lift his eyes to him as he did so. “I wish you’d leave it alone. Nothing will come of this.”

Oliver stroked the inside of Percy’s wrists for a moment, admiring the torn expression willing its way forth through the prefect’s hard, authoritative mask. Had Percy’ve looked at him, Oliver knew he’d have broke to him. He knew his friend well enough to know when Percy’s defenses were low, but he had never exploited them.

He glanced quickly around to ensure they were alone and walked to the step just above Percy’s to equal their height. Oliver was small for his age and a good two or three inches shorter than Percy. He still held his friend’s wrist and with his other hand he reached up and brushed Percy’s cheek affectionately. Oliver felt the heat of Percy’s skin against his fingers and Percy briefly squeezed his eyes closed before looking up into Oliver’s eyes.

“Oliver… please don’t do this,” Percy whispered the beg and his eyes shown a flicker of the underlying struggle within him. Oliver knew Percy didn’t have the physical resolve to fight him off and he couldn’t bear the anguish he saw in Percy. It pained him. He didn’t want Percy like this; he never wanted Percy against his own will.

With a great effort he released Percy’s wrist and started to walk ahead, changing the subject to hide his rejected hurt. “Harry Potter is quite the Seeker. It’s remarkable how natural he is at it. I dare say that we may win the Quidditch Cup this year.”

There was a moment of silence before Oliver heard Percy’s footfalls on the steps behind him and his once again cool voice reply. “We all expect a great many things from Potter. The Cup, however, will not solely be won because of him.”

“No, ‘course not. We’ve a strong team this year. Your crazy brothers are excellent Beaters, bless them. Only a Slytherin could possibly match one of them, but both? Merlin help the poor bastard.” Oliver glanced back at Percy with a grin and shook a finger at him. “Don’t tell them I said that. You know how it’ll go to their heads.”

Percy rolled his eyes and snorted lightly. “Yes, they are already a little too cocky.”

“You’re one to talk. And in any case, you only say that because they always cause you such grief.” Oliver knew he was being light on Percy’s brothers. He recalled one of the many pranks they’d played on Percy- this one involved dissolving pants. Percy had been most embarrassed when he’d sat down in class and his pants went up in a *poof*, smoke bellowing around him. Professor McGonagoll had known right away what had happened and excused Percy. Oliver had been sitting a row behind him and had to be passed to leave the room. He remembered Percy’s cherry red face (his ears being the reddest of all) as he rushed past holding his robe tightly around him. Everyone was giggling and laughing, but Oliver had only wished to go after his friend and ease his humiliation. This was the middle of his third year when the twins first came to Hogwarts.

“I won’t deny that.”

Oliver hummed and went on as they reached the top of the flight and started down a long hallway lined with portraits as they headed towards the Great Hall. “Alicia, Angelina, and Katie seem to get better and better with each practice. You’ve seen them; bloody good aren’t they? I suspect they’ll get signed to professional teams if they continue on like this.” A huge grin formed on his face. “I’m very pleased with this year’s team. Slytherin doesn’t stand a chance!” Oliver shook his fist in determination when he said ‘chance’ and added, “The Cup will be ours; I’m certain of it.”

“I should think we’d all like that,” Percy agreed. Two young female Hufflepuffs raced past them at that moment and he called out, “I say, you two!” The two students stopped and turned to them, their eyes widened in alarm when they trailed to Percy’s prefect badge. One was blonde with short hair and the other had a long black braid and was probably from the Middle East. Their eyes darted to Oliver-- who remained silent and paused where he’d been passed-- then back at Percy. He knew the girls had noticed his Quidditch Captain pin but the offense was for Percy’s authority alone. Personally, Oliver would have let it slide; then again, that’s why he wasn’t assigned as a prefect (which suited him fine).

Percy approached them in a few quick strides, his robe fluttering out behind him as he did so, and stated in a firm voice, “No running in the corridors, that’s a school regulation. What’s your year?”

“Se-second,” the short-haired blonde said in a timid voice. Her friend swallowed nervously beside her.

“Then you two should well know the rules by now. Let it happen again and you shall be reported for unruly conduct.”

“Ye-yes sir,” the blonde said shakily. Her friend added a little more calmly, “We’re really sorry, we won’t do it again.” They waited under Percy’s confident glare for acknowledgment that he accepted their apology.

The prefect cocked his head to the side and pressed his lips together before waving his hand promptly to dismiss them. “Good. You may go.”

They each quickly apologized again and then hurriedly walked away from Percy as Oliver stepped up behind his friend. He leaned close to Percy’s ear and said smoothly, “You enjoyed that too much.”

Percy gave a small shudder and shrugged his shoulder back to push Oliver away. “No more than you enjoy driving your players to the brink of collapse.” He began to stroll again.

Oliver frowned at being knocked away and followed, stepping up beside Weasley. “A team is only as strong as its weakest player,” he said assertively. To him Quidditch was a campaign, a crusade, not a game. Every match was a battle, each year was a war. He treated his team as a general would treat his troops on the frontlines of a martial theater. Often people said he took Quidditch too seriously but he ignored them as any individual would regarding negative remarks towards their passion. “I push them no harder then I push myself. I expect no less of them then I do of myself.”

“Exactly,” Percy replied. “I apply the same philosophy to my duties as a prefect. A rule is a rule and if I follow it without defiance, then every student should do the same.” He paused before they reached the open doors of the Great Hall. They could hear a myriad of sounds coming from within the large room, a golden glow peered through the grand doorway in front of them and illuminated the area it touched outside the hall. Dinner had already begun by the noise and smells flooding out. However, Percy didn’t seem to take notice of this as he had stopped just before coming into view of the entrance, obviously immerged in some thought. Oliver, too, stopped and narrowed his eyes in curious wonder at his friend.

Seeming to feel Oliver’s quizzical gaze on him, Percy turned and looked him straight in the eyes. There was something hidden within the blue depths that Oliver could not properly place. “You are a good captain, Oliver. You give yourself far too little credit.” His tone was tender, unlike any the shorter boy had heard before and he grasped Oliver’s shoulder tactfully to emphasize his point. Before Oliver had a moment to respond, Percy had dropped his hold, turned swiftly into the Great Hall, and was immediately swept up in the hustle and bustle of dinner.

All Oliver could do was stare after him from the doorway, watching his red hair shine under the candlelight as he sat down between two other Gryffindor prefects and Ron throw a roll at his chest. What was it he had seen in Percy’s eyes just a moment ago? Why did he feel an ache in his heart at the words spoken? As Oliver made his way into the room filled with delicious smells and laughter, his mind wandered still on what he couldn’t answer. What was it between he and Percy that made his skin flush hot? He sat at the end of the table next to Angelina where she’d saved him a place. He faked a grin at a joke just said and leaned forward on the table for a spatula in the meat pie that was served for dinner. As he did so his gaze shifted quickly down the row of students at the Gryffindor table. 

What was it that now drew his eyes longingly towards the boy he had so often called ‘friend’?

\--END FLASHBACK--

To be continued...


	2. Give Me This Moment

If only Oliver had known then what he knew now. Would things have been different, he wondered, if he had known the answers to his questions? The events he just recalled were merely the beginning of a long and arduous heartbreaking journey that led him to where he presently sat… Dejected and heartbroken. 

The year to follow was only filled with tense moments and ignorance on Percy’s part. Now that Oliver thought on it, Percy was probably willfully ignorant. Oliver had not tried to advance his emotions on Percy any further and simply remained as his friend and comrade. However, when the year came to an end and the threat of Voldemort was present once more, his heart swelled with fear for the prefect just as it did for the rest of the wizardry world. With Percy’s younger brother Ron so closely involved with Voldemort’s archenemy-- the seeker Harry Potter-- it was that knowledge that sparked the unyielding worry for his friend.

He asked to write to Percy as he had done every year since their friendship began. Oliver loved writing letters. Percy did not deny him this and they corresponded all through summer break with news of their families, personal thoughts, triumphs, failures, and plans. Percy’s letters were always formal and he said no more than necessary, whereas Oliver’s were always slapdash and sincere. At the beginning of every break he asked for Percy to come and visit over summertime, or that he’d come to see the Weasley clan, but Percy always politely declined the requests by making up some nonsense excuse. He had grown to endure this yearly without protest.

Oliver opened his watery eyes and didn’t care to wipe his tearstained cheeks.

He couldn’t stop the flood of memories overrunning his mind of the school year to follow that summer when they were sixteen.

\--FLASHBACK: October 1993--

Oliver had not known of Penelope until the middle of the following October when he had overheard Fred and George joking about it in the lockers after practice. It was surprising that he hadn’t heard sooner. He had gotten in last because it was his turn to check off all of his team’s Quidditch equipment. He had just stepped from the shower area when George gave an insane cackle as Fred regaled Harry of a letter Percy had written.

“…and the letter began, ‘My Darling Miss Clearwater’ like some dopey love sonnet! Fancy that, old Percy being romantic!!! I swear to you Harry, it’s the truth and I don’t care if you spread it.” Fred gave a sure nod to Harry and George clapped the lad on the shoulder encouragingly.

Oliver felt as though his heart might stop. //Say it’s a joke; say it’s not true.// How could this be? How could Percy --his BEST friend-- have a girl… and he not know? Since when? He stood fixed where he was; his hand was clasped tightly around the towel that hung on his hips as he listened to the twins converse.

“Percy’s got a girlfriend! But he’s a clam and never’d admit to it. It’s our solemn duty as his kinfolk to ensure that he enjoys every minute of his blissful companionship,” said George as he tied his shoe laces.

“You mean suffer for it,” responded Harry knowingly, already well aware of the true nature of the two Weasleys. His fair green eyes stared through his round spectacles with a youthful innocence that seemed untouched by the upset of the world, but everyone in the wizard world knew that was untrue. His appearance alone still beseeched the watcher to think, ‘Surely this is not the Boy Who Lived; this cannot be the Harry Potter. He’s but a child, this can’t be the vanquisher of You-Know-Who.’ But indeed it was.

“I’m hurt!” Fred yelped with a mocked expression of grief, his hand clasped over his heart as he tilted his body back. 

“Us cause Percy pain?? Nooooo, if that happens it’s a mere byproduct of our joy for him and not our true intent,” George chimed in.

Harry rolled his eyes with a smile and picked up his book bag. He was already dressed and headed to a study session with Ron and Hermione. “Oh I’m sure of that.” He turned with an amused shake of his head and walked off.

“You have such little faith in us, Harry!” Fred shouted after him and Harry just waved his hand as he exited the lockers. “Well, he does,” he turned and said to George in a matter-of-fact manner.

“Blame him for it?”

“Heartedly.”

Oliver forced himself to step forward towards his own cubbyhole. His name was floating in a misty gold of swirled cursive where he’d signed the nameplate earlier that year. Each locker had a name on it but with different designs. Some names sprung with fire around the letters, others flora, and some just floated in a jumbled disarray. (Katie had told him she had a bunny hopping over each letter of her nameplate.) He somehow found his footing as well as his voice as he asked with pretend, passive curiosity, “Girlfriend, you say? Surely by sharing a dorm I’d know of one. I’ve not heard of this from him.” He began to dress as a twin replied, forcing his body to numb over.

George slid his sweater over his head as he spoke. “That’s no surprise.” The sweater now popped down over his red hair and tossed it in a mess. “I doubt he’s told a bloody soul. We were surprised if Clearwater even knew, so Fred here looked into it. Turns out it’s as true as old Albus is Headmaster.” He got this proud yet mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Boy, what a gem of information.”

“A truly rare pearl in this vast ocean, brother,” Fred said as he knotted his tie.

Oliver turned his face from the two and shuffled through his locker for his socks, trying to hide the hurt that was wrecking his body at this news. //Close off, Oli, just shut down.// “And of course you two have taken it upon yourselves to show it off, eh?” Thank goodness his voice was muffled by the robe over his head while he dug through his mess. He knew it was cracking. It was hard to control the unexpectedly crushing sorrow he was feeling at this news.

He had always though he’d had a chance. He’d always thought that one day, maybe, perhaps… But now…now he realized that perhaps… he’d been a fool instead.

He was a fool.

//You damned fool.//

“Naturally.” Fred picked up his robe and school bag; tossing them both over his shoulder as he let out a merriment-filled chuckle.

Oliver thought Fred and George really ought to leave this matter alone and he was going to ask them to do so. Firstly, he didn’t want to have to deal with Percy’s whining; secondly, he didn’t want to feel bad for Percy and have to find ways to cheer him up. Cheering Percy up was near to impossible. And last, he didn’t want to hear any more about it. It hurt too much. Feeling the string of his hope being cut hurt like hell. 

He composed himself as quickly as he could before he turned to the two boys. //Have strength. Do it.// He kept his voice as plain and carefree as possible, but he allowed a hint of authority to seep in. “Will you guys just do me a favour and let him alone about it? He’s got enough to deal with already.” He let his eyes do the begging as both the boys whined in protest. “If not for him, do it for me. I’ve got enough to deal with without him complaining about you two all the time.”

The whining and complaining continued for about a minute (which Oliver let happen) until George finally agreed that they’d leave him alone “for the most part.” He stated that Oliver couldn’t honestly expect them not to tease Percy somewhat in their private settings. Oliver did agree. With that pact established and a few well-placed threats in position, Fred and George left the locker room pouting and sighing, mentioning something about Lee Jordan’s spider in Percy’s pants.

When he was sure they’d gone, Oliver let himself fall to the oak bench in front of his locker where he put a hand on either knee and dug his nails into the still-clammy skin. He felt his chest tighten so agonizingly at the thought of Percy having a girlfriend-- having anyone-- that he almost couldn’t breathe. He let his eyes close and tried to focus. He took a few slow breaths to try and calm himself but all he could do was feel rage and pain building within him.

Why? Why was this so hard for him? Percy had never expressed any interest in being with Oliver; actually, he’d turned him down the few times Oliver attempted to show the redhead that he cared for him in a lover’s fashion. Percy absolutely refused in his ‘Percy manner’, but they had remained very good friends. Oliver was probably the closest thing Percy had to a true friend and he personally considered Percy his best friend. He didn’t know if that feeling was mutual or not but he felt for Percy what his mind dared not admit.

He had to talk to Percy. He had to know what was going on. He had to understand.

It just didn’t feel right. In his heart… it didn’t feel right.

He knew Percy would be in the Gryffindor student lounge at this time of the evening in order to study and keep an eye on the other students. Oliver hastily dressed while rehearsing in his head how he’d approach the subject with Percy. There was really no good way to bring it up and as time wore on he began to not care how the matter was breached. He didn’t even bother knotting his tie as he tossed it around his neck and hurriedly gathered his things into his quivering arms. He slammed his wooden cubby door shut with a slap of his hand and practically bolted out the door and up the lawn to Gryffindor tower as fast as his body would allow.

Nothing was on his mind other than ‘why’ as he trudged his way up the cool lawn and rocks to the stone-rimmed courtyard. //Why? Why, why, why?// He didn’t pay any heed to his terribly burning leg muscles or his still damp, uncombed hair. Neither did he take notice of the stares and whispers as he rounded the stairs that led to the entrance of his House’s tower. He didn’t recall ever walking through the school to get there. He was fully on autopilot; fueled by his upset and driven by his heartache.

How had he not noticed? When had the two met up and he not known about any of them? He had to know why her. He had to know why her and not him? 

Why didn’t Percy tell him? Why didn’t he say something to him? Why was he hiding this? 

Why?

The thought was obsessive with hurt. Oliver jumped over the gap before the steps fully connected and didn’t even wait for the Fat Lady to ask for the password. He shouted it irritably and motioned his head in a hurried gesture. “Well, my dear boy, if you’re in such a dreadful hurry you simply need to say so instead of shouting like a buffoon,” she said drawlingly as she swung the portrait open to reveal a warm glow radiating through the welcoming doorway. Oliver leapt through and rushed into the room, his eyes going directly to where he knew Percy would be. He always knew where Percy sat. 

But maybe he didn’t know as much about the boy as he thought. Oliver hated doubting himself. He hardly took notice of the six other Gryffindors engaged in random activities throughout the area.

There he was. Percy was lounged back in a high-backed arm chair with his head half in a book and half out, skillfully placed so he could instantly see anything in the room. Oliver was no exception.

“Good heavens, Wood, what in the world happened to you?” He gave Oliver the once-over as the boy attempted to catch his breath. “Is everything alright?” He asked with a hint of concern slipping out in his voice.

Oliver simply stared at him with wild coffee eyes until he was fully in control of his respiratory functions. It was really the only thing he had control over. He was so incredibly upset that if he’d have seen himself on the outside, he may have been embarrassed for himself. He didn’t know what his body or mind wanted to do. It took a minute or so before he could speak but his words were determined when they came forth. “We need to talk.” His voice was firm and left no room for argument. “Now. In private.” He motioned his arm at the ground in demand and worked his jaw, the cloak and bag he was holding in that arm swung hard at the ground and he stumbled to catch them before they fell. He acted as though it never happened and continued his verbal petition. “Now, Percy.”

Percy raised a brow and slowly closed his book, cautiously standing as his eyes never left Oliver’s. He moved as though uncertain if Oliver would strike him. He kept a composed expression as he gently took Oliver’s book bag from his shoulder to help him and gestured to the stairs that led to their dorm. Percy instructed a trusted senior student to monitor the study before he left. Oliver was slightly surprised that Percy didn’t inquire more in the study but then again he assumed that Percy didn’t want to make a scene. Oliver would have done so without a second thought. 

Actually, he’d already gained the eyes of everyone in the study anyway with his outburst.

They didn’t say a word until they were in their dorm and Percy had securely shut the door. Oliver threw his stuff down in a rage and was about to speak when Percy hastily clapped a hand over his mouth. Oliver seriously considered biting into it. Percy glanced around to make sure they were alone before he removed his hand.

“I’m assuming you heard about my girlfriend,” Percy said. His voice was flat and as unreadable as his expression.

Oliver winced as if he’d been hit and he narrowed his eyes, fire burning dangerously within their depths. “Obviously.” He took a shaky breath and clinched his fists tightly at his sides until they shook. He kept a few feet from Percy and tried in vain to regain his composure. He knew it would be impossible to do so. So many years of pent-up feelings blocked his ability to be reasonable. “Tell me why.” His eyes searched the redhead’s face and he repeated it more forcefully. “Tell me why.”

Percy narrowed his eyes a bit in wonder. “Why what?” He asked. He ran his fingers mindlessly along the top of Oliver’s leather book bag that he had yet to sit down.

Oliver furrowed his brow in pain at the sight and closed his eyes with the words. //Stop it.// He thought to Percy. Merlin only knew how much he wanted him and even more so now that… //Now that I may have lost you.// Now that he may have never had a chance to begin with. He wished Percy would touch him like he was stroking the bag-- So naturally and so easily. 

His heart couldn’t handle thinking of Percy with Penelope instead. He wished Percy wouldn’t be so ignorant. 

He wished Percy would love him. 

One moment it was like he could read Oliver’s mind and the next he was a complete bastard. He didn’t open his eyes as he answered. “Why didn’t you tell me. Why her. Why not…” He couldn’t force the last few words from his throat. He simply shook his head because his voice failed him. It was too much.

“Why not you instead?” Percy said carefully, putting the bag down at his side. He heard Oliver take in a breath and Percy knew the answer to his question. He knew it before he spoke. Never had it been mentioned between them that they had chemistry, a possible relationship, something. It was strongly known, but never spoken of… This was the first time and he could feel the hurt radiating from Oliver’s body.

Oliver felt a hand brush his cheek and when he opened his eyes he realized that he was crying. Percy was standing in front of him, so close Oliver could feel his warm breath against his face and his knuckles against Oliver’s cheek sweeping away the tears. “I can’t bear to see you cry, Oliver,” Percy said tenderly. “I can’t bear your sadness. This is why I didn’t tell you.”

So Percy was protecting him? Oliver didn’t know what to feel anymore. Oliver didn’t have the resolve to pull away and only took in a quick gasping breath, closing his eyes again as he focused on the sensation of the boy in front of him; the sincere, comforting hand against his face that caused his body to kindle.

It caused a flame that threatened to engulf him entirely.

“You don’t make sense. I never know how you feel. You always treat me like you’re afraid I’ll break,” Oliver managed to whisper. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you fell in love with her and didn’t have the heart to tell me.” He felt his lip quiver and more tears slide down his cheeks. “Why would this work?” He motioned between them. “We couldn’t even tell each other how we felt. She’s obviously… the most… logical solution.” He was weak. Standing in the dominating shadow of this individual he cared for so deeply he felt as fragile as a spider’s web waiting to be ripped down by a rainstorm.

Percy remained silent but kept his hand against Oliver’s face and Oliver felt a tremor quake through the touch. This caused him to lift his eyes to the other boy and what met his misted gaze was an equally tearful stare. Finally surfacing from the hidden torment of Percy’s soul was agony etched into every angle of his features and Oliver was fully taken aback. Percy’s face was flushed scarlet against his watery eyes and his bottom lip was trembling. Oliver knew the boy was trying to restrain himself but had already lost the fight.

“Percy…” He said and swallowed, unsure of what to do.

Percy made an audible gasp and blinked hot tears that spilt down and landed heavily on the front of his robe. It was as if he’d been caught doing something he’d known better than to do and he jerked his hand away from Oliver’s cheek as if he’d touched blistering metal. He began to step back.

“Percy, what--”

“DON’T!” Percy yelled and choked back a sob. “Don’t say another word! You don’t understand!” He took the sleeves of his robe in either fist and wiped his eyes roughly, but more tears only succeeded in taking the places of the ones he’d cleared away. Oliver stood with his own tearful gape, staring at the broken spectacle before him. “It must be this way! It has to be her! Why--” he was stopped by a sob and waited for it to pass before he continued, “WHY do you make it so hard? Why do you make me feel like this?!”

Oliver’s eyes searched the sight in front of him and he took a pace forward, feeling this incredible urge to hold Percy and calm him in any way possible. Oliver was sorry; he was so sorry and he had no idea why but he wanted to say that. He had no idea Percy would break like this. “Oh Percy…” He muttered in as much consolation as he could muster. He’d been so concerned with his own pain he didn’t even consider that maybe Percy had a better reason than Oliver knew. Oliver lived by his emotions. He lived by his intuition but Percy was analytical and hesitant. He realized that it must have been killing Percy to live a plan that conflicted with his true feelings.

Percy tilted his head down and pressed the base of his palms to his forehead and began to cry. Oliver swept the taller boy up in his arms and firmly wrapped them around him, allowing his own tears to fall as he pressed his cheek into the soft red hair. “Why did this have to happen?” He heard Percy say in a cracked voice into his neck and Oliver took in a breath. The words were followed by a mumbled, “This will never work out. Why do you make me want you so much?” 

“Because you know how much I want you.” Oliver whispered and Percy lifted his head a bit. Tears met regret and pain met grief in the gaze that passed between them. “Don’t push me away,” he said quietly and loosened his arms, sliding them from around Percy’s shoulders to cup the sides of his face. Percy didn’t resist and looked down at the captain, keeping his hands unmoved where they landed fisted on Oliver’s chest. He was frozen in place by the big open brown stare locked upon him. “Give me this moment… before you again close off to me.” This was Oliver’s only request. He asked no more questions; he begged for no more answers.

For the first time in Percy’s life he permitted his heart to dictate his actions and blocked off the objections of his mind. He allowed himself to be pulled down into the welcoming heat of Oliver’s body and the hot, passionate kiss that engulfed every fiber of his sanity. He was wholly besieged; his being was overcome by the hands holding him down, the tongue exploring his mouth, and the fiery, compliant form pressed against him. It was so much more than he had ever allowed himself to imagine while alone in his bed. He unclenched his hands and moved them down to Oliver’s shirt-tails, slipping his hands up under the fabric to feel the soft skin beneath. He felt Oliver shift under his touch and grip the back of his neck harder, forcing the kiss deeper after a muffled groan. Percy’s eyes had firmly closed and he returned the kiss with equal fervor and intensity, regret passing through his soul like a river pushing through the conduits of a dam.

He had never expected that this simple act with Oliver could be so powerful and he felt compelled to grasp this beautiful creature until they were somehow one. He knew it was unachievable and when the moment ended he found himself longing for more.

He found himself longing for what he had just experienced because he knew it would not be felt again with another.

//What have I done?// Percy thought to himself as he felt soft lips press wet against his cheek, hot breath spilling roughly from between them. He leaned into them and nuzzled the face as he tried to catch his own breath. He felt like an eternity had passed between them as he just lived in the moment and breathed Oliver in. No words were spoken but Percy’s mind was once again racing as remorse flooded him. //Oh Merlin, what am I to do?// He opened his eyes and pulled away from Oliver, removing his hands from the warm chest and Oliver lifted his dark eyes to him.

Percy reached up a hand and stroked the flushed, youthful cheekbones of the boy before him. How was he going to explain to Oliver why he was dating Penelope? How was he going to explain that he’d chosen his career over his heart? He had always had a plan and that was what he was going to stick to.

He had to. He must.

He would just have to say it. “I chose Penelope because she’s the perfect addition to define my growing reputation. The Ministry sees not how I feel but the statistics and superficial elements of my being.” His voice was soft and Oliver furrowed his brow at the words. He knew Percy was correct and a part of him had already expected this answer. “They only see my perfect grades, my perfect position, and my perfect girlfriend. They’ll see that I have my head on straight. They’ll see that I have ambition, drive, and supremacy over my classmates.” He ran his hand to the back of Oliver’s head and caressed the subtle bump there. “I did not choose her for any other reason than that.” He felt the words ‘I’m sorry’ form in his throat but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He knew it had to be this way. He was reminded of the decrepit layered house that he had called ‘home’ his whole life and he knew he didn’t want that life. It may have suited his parents and his siblings but he couldn’t bear to have that existence. He’d sooner die than be just a name in some book with a useless degree on his wall, living on the outskirts of nowhere and working a dead-end job just to pay the bills that were forever backed up.

He wanted more from life and by all that was great he wasn’t going to allow anything to stand in his way. He’d chosen to walk this course long before Oliver ever graced the contour of his path. It had to be this way.

It had to be.

Oliver observed a moment of remorse in Percy’s subdued blue eyes before they were glazed back over with some hidden determination. He had his answer and Percy would not falter away from his decision. Oliver reached a hand up and grasped the wrist that was bracing his head. He squeezed it gently, indicating that he understood and placed a tender kiss on Percy’s slightly reddened and bruised lips. It hurt too much to say anything; to acknowledge he’d never be Penelope, he’d always be second or third in Percy’s life. It hurt to stand in the presence of the person he wanted so immovably to be held and loved by… just to be reminded that he was not worth fighting adversity for. He slipped out of the grasp and left the dorm room as fast as his legs would carry him, leaving the taller boy by himself. He had to flee and he didn’t care where to.

Oliver didn’t turn around to ask, ‘What now?’ His heart already knew.

\--END FLASHBACK--

To be continued...


End file.
